Life, or something close to it.

Imagine a child's dream of becoming the greatest there ever was. Imagine two brothers' memory of having a game on a Saturday evening. Imagine searching for five friends to have a match indoors. Imagine 11 of us walking, running, jumping, sliding, heading, tackling, crossing, passing, shooting, saving, scoring, defending and attacking. Imagine the breeze the forty yards of turf feels as the ball rushes over, courtesy of a Lampard stunner. Imagine ninety minutes that gives you every possible emotion. Imagine hundred and ten yards of green heaven. Imagine hundreds of us shouting and cheering in front of a big screen though our cheers don’t really matter. Imagine the five thousand broken hearts that travel across cities to see their team lose. Imagine the seventy thousand hearts that soared when Michael won the derby match on the 96th minute. Imagine the two hundred thousand hands that go up when Andres drives through a wall of defenders at Catalonia. Imagine millions of mouths across the globe shout Goal! , at the same time, as the ball crosses the line. Imagine a nation holding its breath as it watches you take a free kick. Imagine billions of hearts beating for the same cause. Imagine the humiliation of a stupid blunder. Imagine the redemption in a fingertip save. Imagine the chill of an early shower after a red card. Imagine the thrill of a last ditch tackle. Imagine the half time talk of a furious manager. Imagine the cleverness of a chip. Imagine the audacity of a back heel. Imagine winning in the second half, after you were down and out on the first. Imagine the pain of a defeat. Imagine the joy of a goal. Imagine the torture of a penalty miss. Imagine the agony of coming second. Imagine, oh can you imagine, lifting the World Cup. Imagine Steven's fifty yard pass. Imagine Paul's vision. Imagine Lionel's quick feet. Imagine Cristiano's step overs. Imagine Diego's dash. Imagine Roy's tackle. Imagine David’s free kick. Imagine Gianluigi's full stretch for a save. Imagine Ryan's cross. Imagine Wayne's volley. Imagine Ruud's finish. Imagine desolation. Imagine ecstasy. Now gather all these rainbow of emotions: pain, misery, suffering, hate, sorrow, relief, hope, joy, delight, bliss and everything else, and somehow stuff it inside a circumference of 27 inches, put it down, take two steps back. Now KICK IT! Imagine Life. Imagine Football.

This is just a short story, not a life experience or anything like that. Maybe a few thoughts of mine are portrayed, but its nothing negative like I tend to be. So enjoy.

In The End...

He was the genius of our class. He used to ask questions that would baffle me. That would have baffled the teacher, though being the shy kind; he never did ask the teachers. I always wanted to see how the teachers would react when he did. He was not book-smart, okay, he was not only book-smart but an actual out the box thinker. He would question almost everything that we were taught. Every explanation led to another question, which meant to him, a chance for further knowledge. It was amazing to listen to his big ideas, his visions, his meanings, his perspectives, his thoughts. We were 17 then. Eleventh standard. And we were best friends. His thoughts were so profound, so intense that after 8 years of growing up, I am a bit ashamed to admit, I still cannot think the way he did all those years ago. His thoughts were philosophical, insightful, deep, and so many other great adjectives that I can’t remember right now. I’m sure he can. He used to be alone most of the time, because he couldn’t really be interested in our trivial conversations. He always wanted to talk about life and purpose and the things I am beginning to understand now. He wasn’t wearisome though. We used to watch football together, he and I. Even on exam nights. I remember a game when United were playing Chelsea, and United played no good and lost. And he before actually celebrating his undeserved victory, he tried to console me. I wouldn’t have done the same. He was something else. “Life is all about happiness,” he used to say, “and nothing more. All we are looking is for a way to be happy.”
Things changed a bit in the next class. We grew older, a bit wiser from all our mistakes, so did his genius brain. He was able to embrace another emotion in his head, though everyone says this was more a matter of the heart. He fell in love. She was vibrant, optimistic, altruistic, a flower child, beautiful. And totally out of his league or she should have been. But it turned out he could be quite charming when the circumstances called for it. So slowly she fell in love too. They found their utopia between her sanguinity and his rationalism. It was wonderful, grand and fantastic, till adversities threatened to disturb the sanctity of their personal heaven. Parents. They wouldn’t hear any of it. After years of development, evolution, preaching equality, justice and all that goes with it, still it was the castes of the two that mattered most to them. For him and her, it was the most stupid of reasons. And on the evening of the day our results were announced, they vanished into thin air. Even I didn’t know where he had gone. Even during this most absurd of times, he still somehow managed to keep his thoughts coherent, perhaps this was the time he needed it most. I always wondered why he did it. I know love is wonderful, something few are lucky to get. But his brain, his thoughts, they are almost impossible. He could’ve cured cancer or something. I was unable to understand how he could give up so much. And all this, for a girl. She was beautiful, she was wonderful but he had the world at his feet. When we are young everyone tells us we can become anything we want to be, which is a blatant lie, but a necessary lie. If we were to realize how concise our opportunities in life really are when we were young, we would become depressed too early, which would spoil the depressive fun of late teenage, where depression really belongs. You want to become an engineer and a sports star? Of course you can, till you are twelve. Then it’s a choice between this and that, which is the beginning of the end. But if you were to tell him, “you can become anything you want to be.”, it would have been true. And he let it go, everything, just like that. A whole important life wasted.
Seven years after that, I became a doctor. Nothing big, just a MBBS graduate. And a few of us went to celebrate our entry into the true medicine field. It was a small bar. I saw him there. He was a waiter. I became uncomfortable, I wanted to leave. Here was my friend, who would have definitely become the most important graduate from our school, and he was about to serve me my drink. How would I even manage to look him in the eye? I felt embarrassed of my achievement; because everyone knew he deserved it more than me. If the world were spinning right, he would have been ordering the drink and me taking down his orders. I looked away. He said hi. Didn’t I remember him? He was almost the perfect person you could meet. We keep talking about how every human being should behave, about dignity of labor but the moment I saw him in a waiter’s shirt, I was uncomfortable. But not him, he saw an old friend and greeted him. It didn’t matter, if he was a waiter, a janitor or a king. Before being a customer, I was his friend. He saw that, I didn’t. Though I was embarrassed and perhaps sad for him, it was I who made the difference between the doctor and the waiter, not him. I saw a friend who had become a waiter, who had never achieved his potential, who had never lived up to expectations. I saw a friend who had gone awry. I saw a friend who wasn’t able to prioritize properly. Quite frankly, I saw a friend who had wasted his life. He? He saw a friend.
After we exchanged our hellos, he, quite simply, asked us what we wanted. From that moment on he became our waiter, nothing else. Strictly professional. By the time we finished, we were the last ones left. When the time came leave, I told my friends, I’ll stay back for a while. They agreed. They were drunk, they didn’t care. I wanted to talk to him. He came out in a pair of jeans and t-shirt and sat across me. “So doctor, huh? That’s nice.” he said. “Yeah, it’s nothing. So how have you been?” I didn’t want to talk about me.
“I’ve been great. Life is good.” That’s what he said. Those were his exact words. Life is good. Life. Is. Good. And even then I didn’t think he was lying. How could his life be good? His was a life destined for greatness, not serving dinner to rich idiots. It was such a waste. There was so much he could’ve done. Serving drinks to me wasn’t what his life was supposed to be. Life is good, that’s what he said.
“Wait a bit, I have something that will get us talking.” Saying that, he walked back inside the kitchen. I knew what he was about to bring. From Russia with love we used to say, when we were young and the world belonged to us. The two of us would finish a whole bottle. I wondered if he remembered that. He came back, in his hand a 750 ml bottle of Vodka. He sat down. He smiled. From Russia with love. He said. And then in silence we had a two glasses, waited for the magic to work. It took about four minutes. After that we started talking. And after all these years of growing up and understanding the way of the world, he still managed to amaze me. I hassled him about his potential, about his brains, about what he could have done, about what his life could have been. He was rational, once. Why did he let go of so much for a girl, for love? There are always a few things that transcend even the power of love. He knew that, he always knew that.
“All those promises, all those expectations weren’t mine.” he began, “ Becoming a successful person with great degrees was always what everyone else wanted of me. It was never what I wanted. They saw my future for me, they predicted my life. But I didn’t know what I wanted then, how could anyone else. It changed after I met her. The one you so casually call, just a girl. You don’t know her like I do. I used to tell you life is about the pursuit of happiness. And well, she makes me happy. I know I am not as smart as I could be, I am not as rich as I could be, I am not as learned as I could be but who cares about what I could be? All that matters is what I am and I am happy. And let me tell you I am happier than I ever thought I would be. So you think it was irrational of me to have done what I did, but look at it through my eyes. It was the most rational decision I have taken. In society’s eyes, yes I was stupid. If I had done what was expected of me, I would have become an example to be followed. I would have been praised and society would have been happy. But society doesn’t know me. Doesn’t know what I want. My life was always simple. My thoughts always were simple. I wanted to be happy. And when the time came, there wasn’t even a choice to be made. I don’t think I have sacrificed anything. In fact I haven’t gotten more out of life than I deserved. And there’s nothing I would change. All those plaudits, all those praises, what use would they have been to me? I don’t want to be worried about what everyone else thinks of me. Shouldn’t what I think of myself matter more? And I think I was right. It is my life and I lived it the way I wanted. I didn’t let expectations of others dictate me. I did what I thought would make me happy. And it worked out more than fine.”
I kept quiet. I thought he was selfish. He denied the world his brilliance, he shouldn’t have done what he did. But he was right. It was his life. He is allowed to do what he wants with it. His thoughts were always so wide. After hearing what he said I wondered if I had lived my life that way. If I was headed for happiness? I wasn’t sure. I was doctor now. And for everyone else, I have done something with my life. But when I ask myself, is this what I always wanted to do, all I hear is silence. His thoughts were still light years ahead of mine. But as we sat talking about old times, I felt proud that I knew a friend like him. He was brave enough to think for himself. He was brave enough to do what he wanted. He was brave enough to live his life. He was my friend. He is my friend and he still, is a genius.

A few days back, a friend of mine told the most absurd of things. He said we were the best creatures on this planet. I couldn’t help but laugh. We, human beings, the best creature? We maybe the smartest, most progressed, technologically developed, articulation capable and evolutionally advanced. But does that make us the best creatures on Earth? First we have to know how do we judge someone, on how good they are? Are we good because we are able to communicate, plan, have more needs than hunger. That just makes us advanced, gifted. That doesn’t make us good. The age of the robots and artificial intelligence will soon be upon us, and they will be able to do all that we do a hundred times better. So, when that time comes, will they be the best creatures?
If we judge on compassion, then I guess, we are capable of being the best. But right now, we are far from it. We are capable of kindness, empathy, care, sympathy, love and all those wonderful things. But at the same time we are also capable of cruelty, contempt, disdain and hatred, and how! We are caring. We understand the pain of others. History is scattered with people who could be nothing but images of God. But history is also littered with people who knew nothing but evil.
Our earth is just about as big as a speck, in the amazingly vast universe, yet we are able to create borders to divide it amongst ourselves, the people. We differ in caste, social status, religion and we think, scratch that, we know every other caste or religion is on the wrong side. We are right. If we are poor, the rich seem beneficiaries of ill-gotten plunder, if we are rich, the poor are insignificant insects who are only there to dirty and populate the earth that belongs to us. We differentiate ourselves from others, but we do not become individuals. We group up, we form mobs, we share beliefs, we follow religions, and we die for our groups, our mobs. We die for our religion, we kill for it. We move headlong onto war, we sing praises for those who killed for our country, those who died for it. We are villains to the enemy, they are villains to us. We spend more and more money on the fight against terrorism. And I am not against trying to rid this world of terrorist, but they, who we brand horrible, vile and wicked, are people too. We are all human beings, but we are ironically deficient in humanity.
The history of mankind has seen people like Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Gautama Buddha and others, who are the great ambassadors of mankind. But where can we hide Hitler, Stalin, Idi Amin Dada, Ruhollah Khomeini and so many more. The better things we are capable of, the purity of the things we can do, our goodness, our righteousness, our virtue would make even God proud but our malice, our immorality, our sin, our vice, the evil we are capable of would even put the Devil to shame. I don’t know which creature is the best in the world. Although I do know, we can become the best creatures to tread this planet. We can, but we are not and we probably will never be. The end of the world can only be so far.

God. Where is he? What is he? I do not know. I do not believe in him. I am curious to know why so many people do. I don’t think I have it figured out yet. For me it’s a challenge to rationality, to reasoning thoughts, to the thinking mind. How can I believe in something I cannot prove to be true. But I guess, that’s the charm of faith, you believe though you can’t understand. He works in strange ways people tell me, and I ask, why? Why can’t he make everything simple, why does everything have to be difficult? He could make life easy for us. It’s not like he has a point to prove to anyone, he is the all knowing almighty. It’s almost beautiful, the faith and devotion people have, it’s something I can’t understand and maybe that’s why they think I am ignorant, though I think the same of the people who believe. Everything has an explanation, there’s a reason behind why things happen. Except I can’t explain God and his ways, and many people who do believe in him can’t either, yet they trust him, without any hesitation. Why? My mind isn’t bright enough to grasp such a phenomenon. I argue, that people need God to have the fear of being watched. They need to feel that if they do something unholy, there is someone watching that sees all and hears all, someone there’s no hiding from. So to please him, they think twice about doing such wrong deeds. But for me and most of the people I know, we have a clear perspective of what is wrong and what is right. All our lives we have been taught exactly what is wrong and right: this is right and that is wrong. So after all these years of relentless teachings, I have come to understand the way right and wrong works. And before I think of fearing God for doing a wrong deed, I already know it’s wrong. So before I feel ashamed of doing what I am doing, I can think of what I am doing, if this is what was taught to me, if this is who I am, and without relying on the punishment I might receive from above I can change my ways, if I deem what I am doing unclean. My principles, that I have forged over days and months and years, can be my guiding light. I can do right, without being told that it is right. So what role does god have in this drama that is my life?
But I know I am wrong. Hopelessly wrong. God is not the petty scorekeeper that I make him out to be. People don’t believe in him to make him a statue of fear and wrath, no people believe in him because he is a source of hope. That’s what people look for in him. Hope. It’s something underrated, highly underrated. When things go wrong, and everything is as hopeless as it could be, and the world is dark as the night, and everybody has become a stranger, who will you turn to, where can anyone turn to? I don’t know. Perhaps I can offer you explanations on why and where it went wrong, what you could have done to avoid them. It wouldn’t do much good though, because when you are feeling the bitter tremors of agony, you don’t want to hear where it all went wrong, you want to hear how I can make every wrong into a right. But I won’t be able to do it, the future and the past are beyond my control, my rational brain believes all we have is the present, and the present for you is pretty unforgiving. But the believers, they turn to their God, who is all receiving, the sinners and the worse sinners, he doesn’t care. He is all forgiving and he, without any discrimination, offers hope, without an explanation, without reason. Hope for free. And when such a time of despair comes in my life, as I rot in my anguish, desolation and misery, I will envy all those who have a thread to hang on to, who have been offered hope as I slowly decay in the merciless darkness, reasoning out why everything happened. Then I will be vanquished, defeated, broken. But until that day, I will keep questioning.

A few days back, me and a very good friend of mine were discussing about restriction and how they spoil everything. And the discussion went to a point where she said restrictions would be like writing a whole paragraph without the alphabet 'C'. And it's true, writing without the alphabet 'C' is not only difficult it also makes the writing incomplete, but i gave it a try.I guess restrictions also offer challenges. Hope she gets to read this sooner rather than later.


"Life is strange. And I know there are a lot of meanings to the word. Life is strange in every way. It is doom and gloom, darkness, sorrow, despair and depression and yet its also hopes and dreams, blinding lights and uplifting fairy tales. It has billions to offer, all we want are millions, we get in thousands but truth be told hundreds would serve just fine. Evolution has transformed the fight for survival to the fight for luxury. And life exists in this world, where all of these possibilities are oriented in an unrelenting harmony that is like a bootleg version of an anxiously awaited movie, it’s not as good as we want it to be, but maybe it’s the only we will have and the better version is always so far away.
Life, and the world that shelters it, somehow manage and they will keep managing till the world has had enough. And then all life would stop, the harmony shattered, and the universe wouldn’t even realize everything that has happened. We would all stop existing and the planets would keep rotating and revolving, the universe would keep expanding edging nearer to self annihilation, like nothing’s gone wrong and this life that we fight and struggle to enliven would be as important as a drop of water to the wide wide sea. So where do we stand in this master plan for a grand symphony? What meaning and purpose will we ever find in this momentary flash of ambiguity we give the name life?”

A few days back I was buying a bottle of coke at around 10 in the night, I think. I know what you are thinking, that’s a great beverage, and you’re right, but that’s not what this is about. Anyway as the shopkeeper was getting my bottle of the black elixir, an old lady, thin and in a ragged saree, came up and asked for a bar of soap. “How much for the Vim bar? “, she asked. “Eight rupees for the small one and twenty for the big” the shopkeeper replied not really looking at her. She was a poor old thing, frail and timid. She looked at the two notes of currency she was clutching. A ten and a five, and it was as if saddened by the sight of it. She didn’t have the money to buy the bar of soap she wanted. A simple bar of soap. “Give me the small one “she said and grabbing the polythene with the soap in it, clutching now a two rupee note with the five, was gone, leaving me to ponder on what I had just seen.
I hadn’t witnessed the resurrection or anything spectacular. It was simple ordinary every-day event but it had so much to say. Problems are subjective. They always have been, they always will be. Our problems will always be the most difficult problems and no one seems to understand that and no one ever will, because they feel the same. Sure I have to study for hours every single day, but do I have to worry about saving up five rupees so I can buy a proper bar of soap, that’s what the old lady would tell me. And I would reply, not really and hopefully I will never know that problem. Although I still think it’s not as big a problem as having sleepless nights preparing for a three hour ordeal the next morning and having my entire life resting on the hands of someone who analyses what I do in those three hours. Examination oriented education isn’t doing me any good. We all have our crosses to bear and well it feels my cross is just a little bit heavier than all of yours. And if I ask you, you would tell me the same thing. We are selfish creatures by nature. And for me, it’s not wrong that I feel my problem is bigger than everyone else’s. Along with thinking my problems are the biggest, I also accept that the person who is best equipped to do something about it, is me. If I give importance to my problems and not brush them aside, maybe I’ll work harder on solving them, or get totally crushed by it. It’s all very variable. But problems will always be there, till the end and we will always be searching for solutions. A life without problems would be boring, well at least that’s what I think. It would be great to experience it firsthand. But having a few things to enjoy does help. So I am off to get another bottle of carbonated joy and this time I am taking an extra five rupee, to do my good deed of the day, if the circumstances arise.